The titular sister of this second subversive picture book from Sedaris (Pretty Ugly) is wildly covetous—she’s even portrayed with skin that’s an envious green. “She took my bed, my towel, my chair,// my stuffed giraffe, my threadbare hare,” the sibling narrator laments, but the sister’s behaviors extend far beyond nabbing individual effects. Rigid rhyming lines describe a character who claims also grandfather Sidney, “our brother’s kidney,” and “the flag that means LGBT!” When the protagonist finally gets what seems like her best life, end pages lower the boom, offering not a whiff of redemption: “There’s nothing sister doesn’t own.// Except for friends. She’s all alone.” Staake (Lost) brings anarchic Ren & Stimpy–like energy to the proceedings via digitally colored pencil and ink drawings that give the book a raw, dark-carnival giddiness. Though the unrelenting catalog of seized goods eventually wears thin, the illustrations supply a pressure-relief valve, giving readers permission to acknowledge what they know in their bones: siblings can be absolutely awful. Characters are depicted with various skin tones, many fanciful. Ages 7–10. Author’s agent: Cristina Concepcion, Don Congdon Assoc. Illustrator’s agent: Gillian MacKenzie. Gillian MacKenzie Agency. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 11/28/2025 | Details & Permalink

Resplendent in a crown of rays, the sun god—and the whole divine workforce—is ready to wind down in this not-so-soporific work from Grossman (the Magicians trilogy), making his picture book debut, and Liên (My First Day). But the god of sleep is a no-show, and “there won’t be any snoozing” until she appears. Rhyming text and digitally finished watercolor illustrations take readers on the sun god’s hunt for the eponymous deity, encountering an expansive pantheon that includes a jester-like god of jokes, a mystery god in Sherlock Holmes gear, and a noodling math god. The sun god has “just about resigned herself/ To staying-up-all-nighting” when the god of sleep finally drifts in—blue-haired, nightgowned, “guarded by butterflies,” and apologizing for being waylaid by numerous human crises. As the tardy deity tucks in, the gods blissfully enter slumber, too. Even bedtime-averse readers should get a giggle from seeing powerful immortals desperate for tuck-in time. Characters are portrayed with various skin tones, some fanciful. Ages 6–8. Author’s agent: Janine Kamouh, WME. Illustrator’s agent: Kate Webber, Good Illustration Limited. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 11/28/2025 | Details & Permalink

In another lively collaboration, Barnett and Harris (A Polar Bear in the Snow) offer up a funhouse-mirror picture book guide to the future. Told that the book was drafted in the by-and-by, readers learn that the to-come timeline is less about interplanetary travel and more about quirky behavioral and linguistic shifts. The sun is known as the moon, sneezes receive the response “Forgive me, Susan!,” and instead of giving verbal thanks, “we gently place a fish on another person’s head.” Relaying these seeming absurdities as self-evident facts, a docent-like narrator skips the whys behind the changes (“I have too many other things to tell you”), simply noting, “This was confusing at first, but now, in the future, we are used to it” and asking, “Wait, do you do... the thing with the fish, too? Or is that just something we do in the future?” Ink-and-gouache illustrations bring to mind an earnest first learning book that’s rendered in electric colors; the new terminology is often slapped on with DIY-style label-maker strips. Showing how customs without context may well feel arbitrary, it’s a solemnly silly look at social norms—and the authorities who decide them. Ages 4–8. Agent (for Barnett and Harris): Steven Malk, Writers House. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 11/28/2025 | Details & Permalink

Iloh (Salt the Water), making their picture book debut, and Jackson (Summer Is Here) serve up a jovial story about a child who resists trying a new food. Young Emeka is accustomed to his days’ flow: being picked up from school by brother Ebuka, choosing an orange object from ingredients on the kitchen counter, and enjoying jollof rice for dinner. Though his family encourages him to try Mama’s egusi, he repeats, “Orange rice, please” until Mama gives in. One day, Mama invites Emeka into the kitchen to assist her (“Emeka beams. He knows that he’s a great helper”). There, he gathers pantry components, watches his mother add items to the pot, and becomes curious about the duo’s creation: “Mommy, what’s that?! he asks again and again.” And when Papa later asks, “Emeka, what are we doing tonight?!” the child’s proud reply—“WE ARE EATING EGUSI!”—rings with triumph. Iloh’s rhythmic repetition captures the child’s hesitation and interest, while Jackson’s lush digital illustrations fill the pages with the family kitchen’s warmth. It’s a heartfelt story that smartly twines familiar comforts with the joy of learning something new. An author’s note and recipe conclude. Ages 4–8. Author’s agent: Patricia Nelson, Marsal Lyon Literary. Illustrator’s agent: Lori Nowicki. Painted Words. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 11/28/2025 | Details & Permalink

Phelan (Pignic) applies a variation on the famous catchphrase of Melville’s to explore a child’s desire for autonomy across this clever picture book. In a classroom of young anthropomorphized animals—rendered in pastel hues via pencil, ink brush pen, and watercolor—polar bear cub Bartleby, nattily clad in a bright red bowler, necktie, and overalls, keeps separate from the other students engaging in circle time. Invited to join the class in sharing, music-making, and play, he responds with certitude, “I prefer not to.” But a wordless image of Bartleby looking on while his classmates toss a ball seems to point to a yearning for connection, and when the class creates self-portraits, Bartleby finds a way to join in while staying true to himself. When asked again the following day if he wants to play, Bartleby offers a new response: “I would like to.” Crucially, teacher Ms. Melville and peers never try to coerce or chastise the recalcitrant bear, instead granting him space to respond in his own way. The result is a compassionate work that offers a thoughtful message of acceptance for readers of any participatory preference. Ages 3–6. Agent: Rebecca Sherman, Writers House. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 11/28/2025 | Details & Permalink

Boundary-defying astronomer and astrophysicist Cecilia Payne (1900–1979) stars in this even-handed picture book biography. Early scenes highlight how a childhood spent immersed in the outdoors gives Payne the opportunity to hone her observational skills and learn to “always trust what she knew was right.” Later, as a scholarship student at Cambridge, an astronomy lecture lights “a fire inside her,” and text stresses her devotion to studying the stars. Hindered by exclusionary gender bias, the subject moves to Harvard, where she comes to the conclusion that stars are made of gas. While skeptics dismiss her research, Payne is eventually proved correct, and a gratifying close sees her sharing all she’s learned with students. Alary’s thoughtful narration illuminates both the scientific and social aspects of Payne’s life story, while Imamura’s skillful gouache and watercolor paintings are equally at ease depicting the figural and the celestial, resulting in both comfortable domestic scenes and glorious starry displays. Background characters are portrayed with various skin tones. Extensive back matter includes an author’s note and timeline. Ages 7–12. (Jan.)

Reviewed on 11/21/2025 | Details & Permalink

Alko’s detail-rich biographical poems and charismatic acrylic and collage illustrations result in an exuberant homage to Judy Blume. A titular piece, “Judy the Great,” begins by celebrating the subject’s birth, and proceeding free verse progresses loosely through her childhood. While numerous poems emphasize her “Close-Knit” family, symbolized visually and textually as a sweater, others, including “Tales of a Fourth Grade Reader,” highlight the would-be author’s early appreciation for books. Nods to Blume’s published work (“Are you there, God?/ It’s me, Judy”) mingle among pieces that unpack formative life experiences including WWII. Book pages fittingly peek through unevenly applied paint, with broad brushstrokes used to capture the pink-clad subject and family. Text and art alike create a smart portrait of a literary star. Most characters are portrayed with pale skin. An author’s note, timeline, and sources conclude. Ages 6–10. (Feb.)

Reviewed on 11/21/2025 | Details & Permalink

The bravery and determination of baseball player Maria Pepe propels this motivational picture book from Pepe, Patrick, and Green. Third-person narration immediately captures the heroine’s passion for the sport: “She cheered for the Yankees, traded cards with her friends, and asked for baseball equipment.” When a new Little League team starts in Pepe’s hometown, the talented player earns a spot, but community complaints and Little League bigwigs force her off the team. In swoops a “group of strong, smart women” who agree to take the case to court. Digital gouache illustrations render the ensuing publicity and its emotional toll with a surrealistic flair: in one scene, Pepe marches up a newspaper page that forms steps; in another, she regards a sunsetting baseball. With empathy and rigor, the creators neatly drive home the importance of the seminal case and its successful verdict for athletes today. Back matter includes authors’ notes and additional historical info. Ages 6–8. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 11/21/2025 | Details & Permalink

Gavin applauds the heights reached by Junko Tabei (1939–2016), the first woman to climb Mt. Everest, in an invigorating story that opens with a formative childhood experience: Tabei’s first climb, undertaken when she was 10. Considered “fragile and weak” after multiple bouts of pneumonia, Tabei “never forgot what she learned on that first climb. She was strong enough, and the world was hers to explore and discover.” Fast-forwarding to adulthood, the telling emphasizes themes of strength and teamwork while centering on the nail-biting account of Tabei’s history-making climb, which is punctured by an avalanche. Throughout, descriptions lean into language that’s at once literal and metaphorical—variations of “One step at a time” repeat at key junctures. Text wraps around HifuMiyo’s inky retro artwork as it captures the drama of Tabei’s efforts with carefully sponged layers of color and a zoomed-out perspective that contrasts the protagonist’s human form with her chosen environment’s cold immensity. An author’s note and timeline conclude. Ages 5–up. (Feb.)

Reviewed on 11/21/2025 | Details & Permalink

A youth’s first foray into activism proves transformational in Bolling’s bright-eyed narrative. Compelled by Mama to attend a Women’s March, young Hope initially expresses uncertainty. While attendees eagerly chant, and hold signs aloft, the brown-skinned protagonist is pained by an incidence of bias that occurred at school. “Do girls really have power?” the subject mulls. Realizing she’s part of a long tradition of protest, Hope is inspired to confide the experience to Mama as well as to come up with a plan for a school girls’ march. Newly energized, Hope pivots to engagement, proudly creating and carrying a poster that reads “My voice, my power!”—a dictum she commits to follow until “all girls and women are treated fairly.” Mikai’s warm, sunrise-toned artwork amplifies the text’s optimism; backdrops forego detail, focusing attention on the protagonist and fellow marchers, depicted with various abilities and skin tones. Contextualizing back matter includes an author’s note. Ages 4–8. (Jan.)

Reviewed on 11/21/2025 | Details & Permalink